


Twilight

by comingbacktoyou



Series: The Masks We Wear [2]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Assassins, Avengers AU, First Love, Jaebum as Natasha, Jinyoung as the Winter Soldier, M/M, Memory Loss, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 16:39:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14919020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comingbacktoyou/pseuds/comingbacktoyou
Summary: As a trained Black Widow operative, Jaebum's mission is only this: Kill.He isn't supposed to fall in love.





	Twilight

**Author's Note:**

> Hello I have part to of this series ready for you guys!!!! If you haven't read part I please do so before reading this as they are connected, and there will be some things that may not make sense if you haven't read "Dawn".
> 
> I always loved the idea of jjp in marvel, and have wanted to explore the black widow/winter soldier story line for a long time, so I thought this was perfect. Stay tuned for more of this series as it will all lead to the main fic soon, I just need to get these backstories out there first!
> 
> Enjoy and let me know what y'all think! :)

_North Korea 1999_

 

_The bell tolled on in the background of the schoolyard, a dull ringing that signalled it was time to rejoin the rest of the class. The teachers stood by in the courtyard of the hallowed school waiting for the boys to fall in line, one by one, to escort them back to their training rooms._

_Through the pillars of the courtyard and into the garden, there sat a little boy kneeling behind a tree, no more than five years old, eyes not having yet been robbed of their innocence. That boy, Im Jaebum, bigger than the other five year olds at the school, tucked his head into his knees and waited, hoping if he hid just long enough they would forget about him, and not make him go back to that horrible place._

_Jaebum was only five years old when he was taken from his family in Seoul and sent to The “Academy”, ripped from his mother’s arms in the marketplace and thrown into another country, into another world he knew nothing of._

_Jaebum had thought being kidnapped was the something of nightmares, but it was nothing compared to what lie beyond the doors of The Academy, where their minds were rearranged and their arms were strapped down._

_Little Im Jaebum hadn’t found his place there yet. Where the other kids were strong, tall, and looked down on him, Jaebum was scared, confused, and missed his mommy dearly. The other kids were faster and picked on him more because he was new, and the teachers never gave him any sympathy. When he cried from the abuse, they told him to man up and show strength, because it was the only way he would survive in the real world._

_Hiding in the garden was something Jaebum did best, and the teachers, they knew, they would just give him some time to pick himself up before he came crawling back, no where else to go. But that time was different, as Jaebum stayed huddled in place for well over the allotted time he was typically given. The teachers had not approached, instead rushing to the Headmaster for guidance._

_“This one, 4421, will take a longer time to break,” a female professor with bobbed chin-length grey hair said to the Headmaster, an older man with wrinkled skin from time._

_“But we will break him,” he assured, rising from his desk to peek out of the window of his office, the view picturesque, even with the small boy crying under the cherry blossom tree. “Have the asset bring him in. It’ll teach him obedience.”_

_Under the tree, Jaebum’s only thoughts were plagued by images of his mom and dad, where they were, and if they were still looking for him. He wondered if they had moved on already, and already started having new kids to share their love with._

_He cried so hard he completely missed the sound of footsteps coming towards him, the leaves crunching beneath the heaviness of the solid black boots. When he felt the presence of another body, Jaebum had only enough time to take in the dark clothing and the silver that glinted from the person’s arm before their hand fisted in his shirt and ripped him from the ground._

_The exposed metal on the man’s arm blinded him with the oncoming rays of the sun, never getting the chance to see the man’s face. He only saw the arm, the rough and beaten metal of it, and only felt the dull pain as he was dragged away from the cherry blossom tree, kicking and screaming all the way._

 

_North Korea 2015_

_“No pain. No fear. Take nothing and give everything.”_

That is the motto of the Academy. That is the message instilled in the children there from an age before they know what the rest of the world has to offer. With brutal training courses and ideals burned into their brains from day one, the students of the Academy were unlike any mercenary group out there. They were an elite group of assassins grown to take down anything that stood in their way, and the most prestigious of all, the _Black Widow_ operatives, could infiltrate an agency in seconds and dismantle it from the inside out.

Trained in acrobatic combat and weapon proficiency, the Black Widow program created hundreds of skilled spies that did their bidding wherever it was seen fit. Im Jaebum is one of those unfortunate people.

Though he tried many times to escape the Academy when he was younger, they wore him down over time, spoon feeding him lies about their organization and the world around him. He was made to believe his being there served a higher purpose, that he was to bring peace and justice to this world. Though Jaebum was young and naive when he was taken from his parents he wasn’t stupid, and never gave into the delusions the Academy drew.

The only reason he’d stayed for sixteen years was because he physically could not leave. The Academy directors were terrifyingly intelligent, always managing to find the operatives if and when they escaped. The younger they were, the easier it was to bring them back in. But once they reached a certain age, they became expendable. If someone tried to leave they were never seen again, and _not_ because they successfully made it past the cemented walls.

It was a hard life to escape, so by the time Jaebum had reached thirteen years old, he had given up hope, finally giving in to everything they told him to do. He went through their courses, teaching him how to survive in the world when it offered him so little. They starved him, worked him through sleepless nights, and prohibited medical attention whenever they deemed it necessary. It was to _break_ them, as Jaebum later learned, to make them stronger, a force to be reckoned with.

The Academy sent them to language classes twice a day until they were fluent in everything from Spanish to Latin to Polish. They had discovered Jaebum to be especially intelligent, racking up more languages than any other student there, with nine in total. The classroom learning was definitely the only part of the day he could tolerate, as it made him feel like he could be a regular kid for the duration of the class.

The worst definitely came when it was time for them to put away their books and follow the instructors down into the basement, or what they called the _Red Room._

While not technically a red room, the Red Room served as training grounds for the Black Widow program. Inside the four walls of the underground chamber the children were ripped apart and pieced back together slowly, one by one. Martial arts combat, as well as acrobatics and flexibility were stressed, and if one couldn’t master the skills in time, they were punished. Jaebum had never faced one of those punishments in his time there, quick on the learning side. But he knew of kids who did. They were never quite the same.

Over the years Jaebum had grown into their star pupil despite the rocky start he had previously. The years groomed his fighting skills and instincts sharply, barely any of the teachers could keep up with him anymore. He had even developed a knack for close-range shooting, and bettered his knife reflexes the more he practiced.

As an assassin in training, he was expected to master the art of the kill. His first came when he was just ten years old, thrown into what the school called the _Challenge._ Designed to weed out the weak, two students were placed in a metal cage the size of a small room to fight until blood was shed. It was a battle to the death, to build character from a young age and keep the weak links from slowing the organization down. Every three months the Challenge was held, and those unlucky enough to be chosen usually never lasted three minutes alone with their competitor.

Jaebum’s first kill came at just ten years old, when he had the misfortune to be chosen by a teacher that didn’t care for him much. He was thrown in the cage with an older boy of a few years with plenty more skill than Jaebum had developed, locked away, and watched like an animal by his peers. The odds had been seemingly against him, but he stunned the audience _and_ the devious Headmaster when Jaebum had managed to scale the cage bars and hook his ankles around the older boy’s neck and drag him downwards. The action had snapped the boy's neck like a twig, and earned Jaebum the prestige he carries to this day.

Since then they’d made him kill again, and again, as part of his training. It's impossible to ever feel good about executing someone, but there’s nothing he can do about it. The ones he kills are going to die anyway if they’ve already reached the doors of the Academy, and if Jaebum doesn’t kill, then it’ll be his head on a silver platter instead. Each of the twenty or so kills he’s had so far sit in the back of his brain like a tattoo, the inking of their ghosts creeping into his soul as a punishment for his crimes.

Jaebum’s gotten used to their screams by now, because at the end of the day they remind him that at least he has a conscience, the one thing the Academy was determined to break him of.

And although they've worn him down over the years, they haven't broken his spirits or his sharp wit. The only thing more dangerous than Jaebum with a gun is his own mouth, one so dangerous it gets him strikes when he's spouted off at the worst of times. His pointed tongue is the only thing he can claim is really his, that makes him stand out from the other students and isn't molded by the Academy. He's determined not to be another one of their lifeless dolls they mass manufacture, and letting his personality shine through gives him that.

The Academy is somewhat accommodating for their students, giving them shelter, food and water, and a bed to sleep on at night. When Jaebum was younger, the students shared a communal mess hall, their beds lined up in perfect little rows that were inspected everyday. But as they grew older and new recruits came pouring in, the older and well regarded operatives were allowed single rooms, and when Jaebum’s days are over and he crawls tiredly back to his secluded space at the top of the schools south tower, the designated guard customarily straps his arms and legs down to his bed while Jaebum tries to find his own peace away from the haunted voices that roam the halls.

During the night Jaebum can relax for a moment, no need to wonder if anyone is watching him silently from the shadows. But during the day, he constantly keeps an eye out for himself, because he knows he’s feared by many. It’s not his fault but he assumes full responsibility, since he is the one who’s racked up the most kills and has yet to be beaten.

He walks into the red room like any other day, standing in the four parallel lines with the other black widow trainees just like they’ve been conditioned to do. Their instructor, Miss Kim, waltzes into the room as stoic as ever with her grey hair that curls under her ears, only this time there’s a second person standing behind her as she takes her place at the center of the room.

Jaebum doesn’t have a good view of the second person, but from what he can tell it’s a man about their age, bulked up in some sort of holster gear. He stands guarded behind Miss Kim, his shoulders are strong and his arms remained poised behind his back purposefully.

“Congratulations, you have all nearly completed your training,” Kim enunciates, drawing Jaebum’s attention back to her petite form. “In a few weeks time you will be put through the trials, and we will see who will graduate.”

The trials. The rite of passage for students in the black widow program, a necessity that proves which ones can put forth all they have learned in their studies. There are hushed whispers around the dormitory about what the trials could entail, but most conclude with knowing nothing of the tests. In any case, Jaebum hopes he’s ready for whatever they throw at him.

“However, before you can begin the trials you must learn to walk in the footsteps of a shadow,” she continues, stepping to the side to allow the other person to step forward. “Like the Soldier.”

The moment the figure steps forward Jaebum scans the entirety of his face for any sign of recognition - from an old professor, classmate, famous mercenary - but fails to find any. He’s young, that’s for sure, with dark eyes colored in black war paint and a shiny mop of brown hair to match. His face is poreless and strikingly beautiful, a true femme fatale in the making. His youth isn’t what catches Jaebum’s attention, but the shiny, almost metal-plated armor the man wears on his left arm.

Something glints off the exposed silver metal, and then suddenly Jaebum is transported back to his younger days, in his first weeks at the Academy when he was brave enough to disobey the orders. He recognizes the metal arm, finally, as the one he feared during his childhood.

It had only been a brief moment in time, when this soldier had lifted him off the ground like he was nothing and dragged him back into the school kicking and screaming, but Jaebum’s five year old mind latched onto it, and created a monster out of it. He never saw this man’s face but the arm is what played in his head every night before he went to bed, terrified that it was hiding under his bed like the boogie man.

After that day Jaebum never saw this soldier again, and the memories of the horrific metal arm had completely faded away. But here it is now, staring at him like he’s an object of it’s desire. Jaebum lifts his gaze to see the man that bears this limb once more, only to find him staring right back, like Jaebum is his prey.

He looks back at Miss Kim and collects himself calmly, hoping no other student had seen his tiny misstep.

“To be like the Soldier, you must become invisible.”

In the blink of an eye the room is flooded in pitch black darkness, making it impossible to see even two inches in front of their faces. Jaebum’s eyes don’t even have time to adjust to the drastic change before the lights are back on and brighter than ever, clouding his senses.

Where the soldier had been standing before is left open, the man nowhere to be seen.

“You must outwit your own shadow.”

Drowned in darkness once again, there’s a brief moment of rustling fabrics somewhere in the line behind him. There’s a small gasp, but he doesn’t react to the harsh intake of breath, and when the lights are turned back on, one of the male students has dropped to the floor. The soldier is still nowhere to be seen, in an immaculate display of craftsmanship.

“You must move like the wind.”

Plunged into the black another soft gasp is heard, this time off to Jaebum’s right. The scare tactic was working hard enough to make him nervous, and he wonders vaguely how long this would go on before the students have figured out the soldier’s strike patterns.

A flash of lights.

“You will become the darkness.”

Back to black.

While Jaebum’s irises dilate in the brief moment the lights are off, there’s something else he senses, close by. He tenses when he feels a short puff of hot air crawl into his ear, and before the lights can come on, he knows the soldier is standing right next to him.

He breathes out steadily, hands unclenching where they’re poised at his sides. The lights flick back on for the last time, and in the same instance, the soldier makes his move. Sensing the attack already Jaebum has his right arm lifted to dodge the hand that reaches for him, snagging onto the soldier’s wrist and ripping it downwards.

The crowd around fills with shock and begins parting when the soldier goes down, but he’s not finished fighting yet. The soldier mirrors Jaebum’s move and pulls back at the same time, sending Jaebum flying to the ground with a thud. The students watch them now with curiosity, and as Jaebum turns his head to look back up, he sees the other man right his footing. Jaebum wonders if this is part of the exercise or if the soldier is really only looking for a fight, but either way Miss Kim makes no move to stop either of them.

And then the lights are shutting off once more, barely giving Jaebum enough time to get to his feet before they blind him again. The soldier is absent from his line of sight, but Jaebum feels him before he sees him. There are a sudden pair of arms wrapping around his shoulders and crushing him under their force, but Jaebum had anticipated this. With fast precision he kicks off from the ground and then uses his weight to pull both of them back down, sending the soldier tumbling over Jaebum’s shoulders.

Where Jaebum is tactical, the soldier is lightning fast. He spins on the mat and swipes his foot out, knocking Jaebum’s legs out from under him. His shoulder collides with the ground in an awful crack, and Jaebum stupidly wastes a precious moment squinting in pain when he should be calculating his next move. The soldier does it for him, already on two feet and scrambling towards him.

The soldier kicks Jaebum onto his back before plunging the bottom of his black boot onto his throat, gently at first, but with more pressure as the seconds go on. Jaebum struggles mutley to pry the foot away from where it’s constricting his windpipe, scratching defiantly at the soldier’s calf.

No one makes a move to stop the soldier or help Jaebum, so as his face bleeds red and his lungs deflate, Jaebum wonders if this is finally going to be the moment that kills him. He looks into the hollow eyes smudged by black of the soldier and holds his ground, draining every ounce of fear he’s been taught to destroy.

Jaebum makes a choking sound when the foot pushes further into his windpipe, and this must be the moment Miss Kim has finally had enough.

“Longing, rusted, furnace, daybreak, seventeen,” she spouts rapidly in her accented Korean, face hard as the soldier makes a choked off noise. “Benign, nine, homecoming, one, freight car.”

The words, while seemingly random to everyone else, spark something in the soldier and in the next instant he's falling off of Jaebum, hands clutched at his own temples. His eyebrows scrunch together in some sort of pain, hitting him so deep he collapses on his hands and knees. Jaebum takes this opportunity to roll away as he sucks in a fresh breath of air and coughs it back out roughly.

He struggles to regulate his breathing, but at the same time watches as the soldier cries out in pain. Jaebum doesn’t know what’s wrong, and even though the man before him almost ended his life just seconds ago he feels worry rise up his bones as he watched him writhe in pain.

The torture ends then, Jaebum and the soldier sprawled out in the middle of the red room surrounded by shocked faces, trying to catch their breaths. The soldier glances at him then, brown locks falling into his eyes that are now dull and silent, like something had been ripped out of them. He's almost robotic in the way he stares forward right through him, like Jaebum isn't even there. He wonders what kind of power those few Korean words can have over a powerful soldier like him and how. Jaebum tries not to stare but he’s utterly entranced, forgetting just for a moment where they are and who’s watching.

“4421, get back to your feet,” Miss Kim spits, breaking the silent moment Jaebum had lost himself in. “The rest of you will begin your final training.”

 

 The one thing about training with the Academy is that it never gets any easier. The combat training increases in difficulty, the nights become more restless, and the things one is asked to give up become more personal.

Jaebum works through the rest of his training because it’s all he can do. In order to live, he has to learn how to kill. He becomes faster than a shadow and succumbs to the darkness to impress his instructors and graduate faster. He bypasses all the other students with ease in the silence of his destruction, so much so that he’s inadvertently caught the attention of a certain _Winter Soldier_.

The name was infamous, and it was that first day in the red room that had spurred an interest in whoever this brooding soldier was, due to the fact it seemed, that Jaebum nearly matched the other with his skill in combat. Jaebum had done what no other had, and bested the soldier at his own game. Jaebum was still lacking in many ways, but the fact that he was just as quick with twice the heart stirred something inside him whenever the pair had locked eyes in the training grounds.

Unlike the very first time they met, the Winter Soldier didn’t leave for years without a trace. He maintained a place at the Academy and stood by as they developed their assets, watching idly and lending a hand or two when the instructors requested his knowledge.

Jaebum pretended not to feel pride when the dark pair of eyes were burning holes in him when he sparred with a fellow operative, but couldn’t ignore the way it made him feel - worthy of attention, interested in his work, and deemed important enough to keep an eye on. Anytime their eyes would catch Jaebum would send a quick wink that relayed the message that he knew of the soldier's interest, and when he became the instructor for their lessons, Jaebum couldn't ignore the way the man lingered around him despite the numerous other students there too, effortless leadership entrancing him and strong arms guiding his movements.

Jaebum would be lying if he said he didn’t feel the same kind of pull, drawn to the way the other man crept around without a sound and killed like his life depended on it. Jaebum admired the slide of the soldier's steps and the way he could take down a person in seconds - in some fucked up way it was disgustingly attractive and alluring. While he was no fool to begin crushing on a skilled brainwashed assassin, there was no hiding the drum of his pulse when the soldier came near or the fuzzy feeling it gave when Jaebum caught him staring.

When the Academy deems him ready for the trials, Jaebum is whisked out of his bed in the middle of the night and shrouded by a black sack over his head. He’s thrown onto the ground nearly an hour later and the cloth is ripped from him. He finds himself standing in the middle of the _cage_ , wearing nothing but his wool pajama bottoms - he’s not even wearing underwear. Jaebum figures out what’s happening immediately when the doors are locked and he’s meet with a faceless opponent on the other side of the cage.

The person fades into the light slowly, like he’s getting ready to circle his prey, and Jaebum recognizes the Winter Soldier within seconds. He’s dressed down in his usual black attire and combat vest, and his arm, shiny and poised, rests at his side like a vengeful omen. Jaebum isn't admiring his lean frame or handsome face like he normally would, this time readying himself for whatever his test may be.

Jaebum looks down at himself and sighs, of course they wouldn’t grant him any sort of protective clothing, not even a plain shirt. “So you’re my trial,” he says, matter of factly.

The soldier stands guarded, unblinking. “If you defeat me in battle, you will have passed the test.”

As the first time hearing the man speak, Jaebum should be caught off guard. But he’s not, the soldier sounds exactly the way he pictured, deep and full of gravitas. So much so that his drawn out vibrato only fuels the fire of Jaebum's tiny infatuation.

But the soldier means business now, and if Jaebum doesn’t pass this test, it might mean he doesn’t get to continue doing _anything_ at all. There's no telling what awaits him if he fails, so he'd rather not find out as he calculates his plan of attack.

The Winter Soldier lines up his footing, giving Jaebum just enough time to mirror it before he’s charging forward, arms raised. Jaebum ducks to block to oncoming raised fists, deflecting them with his forearms. The soldier rushes to knock his arm out of the way and shoves Jaebum hard in the chest, causing him to nearly lose his balance.

But Jaebum rights himself easily, dashing headfirst towards the soldier and kicking his legs out to block the righteous fists coming his way. The soldier gets a good lick in, shoving his foot hard into Jaebum’s bare chest and knocking him to the floor.

Not giving up that easily, Jaebum pulls himself off the ground by pushing off from his back to land on two feet. The soldier is already on him, sending punch after punch and kick after kick his way. With the man’s hands doing most of the fighting Jaebum gets an idea, and mirroring the action he had previously used on the soldier weeks before, swings his leg out to knock the soldier off balance.

Jaebum pulls his arm back and rams it into the soldier’s face with a hard crack to the bridge of his nose that sends him gasping as it waters, holding his bleeding nose in one hand. The soldier’s other hand, the one famously created from metal, swiftly latches onto Jaebum’s ankle, and before he can suck in a breath he’s being thrown full force into the opposite side of the cage, colliding with its metal poles.

He’s quick enough to hold on, another idea emerges through the cracks in his brain. Instead of dropping to the ground Jaebum scales the walls like a spider, lifting himself onto the roof of the metal cage with his hands and feet securely holding on.

“You're good at what you do,” he chuckles, taunting the soldier from his height advantage. “But you're no me.”

“Your ego is your weakness,” the soldier moves to follow Jaebum but the black widow operative is impressively faster, hands still holding onto the bars but body propelling downwards like a gymnast. His feet give a good whack straight to the soldier’s face, giving Jaebum the opportunity he needs to fulfill everything he's gained in his training.

Jaebum swings from the bars once more and drops down straight on the soldier’s shoulders, securing himself before wrapping his plaid-clad thighs around the base of his neck. The soldier scrambles to remove Jaebum’s body, hands clawing at his thighs and even going so far as to back themselves into the wall. But Jaebum doesn’t budge, tightening his legs around the mercenary until he’s gasping for air.

The lack of oxygen gets to the Winter Soldier’s strength, and within seconds Jaebum is able to snag the man’s hands and hold his arms away. With no way else to save himself the soldier falls to his knees as the oxygen leaves his lungs, the grotesque and familiar gagging sounds shifting something directly in Jaebum’s core. It had been exactly like this, he realizes, when the soldier had almost killed him, purple in the face and gasping for air.

Only this time the mission isn’t to kill, and as soon as the upper lights come on to reveal a booth of instructors sitting behind a glass wall observing them idly, Jaebum is ready to end the fight.

Only that chance doesn’t seem to come.

“Very good, 4421,” comes from a voice Jaebum doesn’t recognize, hidden deep by the bright lights. Jaebum is expecting them to tell him he’s won, passed the test with ease. But what comes out next turns his blood to ice. “Now kill him.”

Jaebum nearly relents, letting up some of the pressure on the soldier’s windpipe. “What?”

“You heard me,” the voice says again, this time harsher. “Kill him.”

Jaebum is confused. This man, this Winter Soldier is their top asset. He’s their most prized possession, worth more than any black widow operative - even Jaebum - and everyone in the room combined. They surely did not expect Jaebum to kill him.

“I don’t understand,” Jaebum admits, still holding the soldier’s arms down just in case. “He’s your top operative. He’s worth more than a thousand men, killing him would damage this company.”

There’s silence - as much as possible with the soldier still struggling beneath him - and then the same male voice coming through the speaker.

“I don’t care, do it.”

It all feels wrong. Killing doesn’t, Jaebum’s used to it. But killing their best operative, for his own retribution? Jaebum wasn’t worth that. He’s good, but he’s nothing like the Winter Soldier. He’s seen everything the other man is capable of, and even if he’s a mystery Jaebum is desperate to uncover, there’s no justifiable point in killing him. They need him, in every sense of the word.

There’s also something else in the back of Jaebum’s mind telling him not to do it, for reasons he already knows why even if he doesn't want to admit it. _You’ll regret it,_ his instinct tells him. There’s no telling what will happen to him if he refuses his command, but in part of some odd need for resistance and having no desire to kill the man he’s got stung along, Jaebum declines, unclenching his thighs and plopping down to the floor gracefully.

“No.” He says matter of factly, crossing his arms. “If you want him dead, kill him yourself.”

It was done. Jaebum’s almost too scared to see the end result of his actions, instead casting his gaze towards to soldier, clutching his neck while taking in huge chunks of air. He coughs in a series of fits and Jaebum uses the sound to distract himself from the oncoming punishment for defying their word.

Only it never comes. The upstairs lights that had been illuminating the booth shut off, and the door to the cage swings open hauntingly.

“Very well, 4421. See you tomorrow.”

Knocked still in his tracks, Jaebum can only stare at the door in perplexion, wondering if this is all some sort of practical joke. Did he pass? Did he fail? Did him not agreeing to their terms mean something worse was in his horizon for tomorrow?

Jaebum doesn’t know what to expect, but he doesn’t want to remain in the cage any longer. He starts walking to the door but pauses, noting the soldier still leaning on his hand to catch his breath. The nagging pull towards the soldier inside Jaebum forces him to reach out, fingers circling around the metal of his bicep and tugging the soldier to his feet. The Winter Soldier is equally shocked at Jaebum’s actions, giving him a puzzled look before Jaebum is dropping his arm.

“Sorry,” he says, unsure of what one can say when they’ve nearly killed someone that had tried to kill them once before too. He finds the soldier’s eyes and shrinks backwards, trying and failing to stare deep into their dark void.

There’s dried blood caking his nose and mouth, and when the Winter Soldier speaks, despite their fights and attempts to kill each other, it’s like Jaebum can see through it, to the person under everything.

“Good fight.”

It scares Jaebum how warm the two words are, but what terrifies him even more is the way his blood pumps with fire, it's small enough to go unnoticed, but big enough to have Jaebum’s breath hitch.

 

 

Jaebum gets strapped into bed that night feeling like there’s a target painted onto his chest. His eyes and ears are everywhere, on the lookout in case there’s something else he’ll be pulled into as part of his trial. He doesn’t even know if he passed the first fight, and if he didn’t, he doesn’t really want to know what happens next.

It takes him a few hours to fall asleep most nights, and with the never ending paranoia it takes him nearly twice as long this time around. When his eyes begin getting heavy it’s around three a.m., his legs and wrists relax, and he tunes out the rest of the world.

That is, until there’s a soft sound coming from the window across from his bed, like someone is trying to open it.

Jaebum shoots up in alarm, but is powerless to stop any intruder with his hands and feet tied down to the mattress. He steadies himself, conjuring up any plan he can think of in a situation like this, the rustling near the window getting louder.

He hopes it’s just a bird that found a place to land, but the window lifting from the outside, followed by a dark hand grabbing onto the sill tells him he’s wrong. Within seconds the person attached to the arm appears through the gap in the wall, sliding through the window stealthily covered in black pants and a black hoodie.

Jaebum holds his breath and shuts his eyes before the intruder can see, hoping if he plays dead the person will be gone. However, the figure doesn’t move.

“I know you’re not asleep,” comes from a familiar deep voice, one he’s heard only a handful of times.

Daring to open his eyes at being caught, Jaebum’s vision swims with one person and one person only - the Winter Soldier - hood pushed back onto his shoulders and hands stashed in his pockets. Despite not knowing why he’s here, Jaebum cracks a sly smirk. “You must really like me, huh? If you're willing to sneak into my room at night…”

The soldier squints his eyes, not responding. Suddenly Jaebum’s feet go cold. Was this a second part of the test? Was he here to punish Jaebum for failing? There couldn’t be a good reason for his appearance, but if it were for something bad, why didn’t he just use the door? Why the window in the middle of the night, dressed in black, like he was sneaking around?

But with the same small but booming voice laced with an icy tone, the Winter Soldier glares at him. “I came to inform you that you passed your test.”

In a silent blur Jaebum just stares on, waiting for more. Only the soldier doesn’t give it, instead he walks around the bed near Jaebum’s feet and takes one of the straps in his hands. Jaebum watches with confusion as the man unbuckles the strap and lets Jaebum’s leg fall free. He undoes the second one, then unhooks the two wrapped around his wrists, all while Jaebum glares back, like the soldier has grown two heads. 

“I passed?” He asks, pulling his free limbs to his chest and waiting as the soldier perches himself in the only chair across from the bed. The quiet man nods. “And you wanted to be...alone? When you told me?”

“Because you weren’t the last operative to take the test,” the soldier explains. “But you were the only one who passed, remarkably.”

Jaebum does a double take. “I was?”

Nodding, the soldier places elbows on his knees and leans forward. “You were the only one who forfeited trying to kill me. The test was necessary to prove restraint.” With his deep vibrato and resilient bravado, this is the most Jaebum has heard the soldier speak at once. He’s in awe, staring back. The soldier notices. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Jaebum pulls back, flushing slightly. “I’ve just never heard you talk this much before.”

“Sorry.”

Rubbing his wrist, Jaebum chuckles. “Don’t be sorry, talking is good. Besides, you have a nice voice. If you ever get out of here you should do audiobooks.” He might be delirious, but Jaebum swears the soldier blushes just a little bit under the attention. The air somehow feels lighter, not like he’s talking to one of the most feared individuals in the world. Maybe it’s because Jaebum never feared him as a killer, only admired his as a teacher. “Please, continue.”

“I’m not allowed to speak to the students, but I decided to inform you of your results anyway.” The soldier’s eyes focus on his form hard. “If they find out I will surely face the consequences.”

Eyes wide with wonder, Jaebum places a hand over his heart in mockery. “I’m so touched. You risked your safety to tell me I passed. What did I ever do to deserve this honor?”

“I see you becoming greater than this,” he admits with a hint of trouble in his voice, tugging down the ends of his sweater, like he’s nervous suddenly. “And I want to ensure that you do.”

There’s no telling what he means by that - if he means more than an assassin or more than what the Academy has turned him into - but perhaps somewhere underneath all the precise kills and infinite knowledge of combat, there’s something the world hasn’t broken of him yet. Jaebum flushes deeper.

“I also came to inform you that once they perform the graduation ceremony on you, they are going to assign you to your first case in the Ukraine, and I will be there to guide you.”

Floored with the amount of information he’s receiving, Jaebum lets the other man’s words sink in before he finds the words to speak. Now Jaebum admired the soldier, and he’s not one to be a narcissist, but was the Academy really going to put the soldier on his first solo mission? Did they really think that low of him, that he couldn’t take on the job so easily? Or was this all the soldiers doing, as he thinks Jaebum needs some sort of protection? Either way, Jaebum feels irritation settle into his bones; having gone through all these years of training, he’s not going to be treated like an amateur, especially by the person who just admitted he was going to be great.

“Look babe, I like you and all, but I don’t need a babysitter,” he nearly spits, annoyed that _anyone_ would think with the skill sets he possesses he would need anyone guiding him around. He's the only one from his group to pass the trials for crying out loud.

“But you also have never done this before, _babe,_ ” the soldier sneers back just as fiery as he matches the pet name, making Jaebum sit up straight at the explosive tone. “Besides, Kim likes the way we fight together, we’re unmatched in our skill sets.”

The easy tone that had once filled the room dives deep into an unreadable tension as neither seem to want to cooperate. Jaebum mimics the soldier’s position in defiance, feet on the ground and elbows on his knees. He cocks his head, sneering through gritted teeth, “Well then don’t we make the perfect pair.” Hands come up to his face, rubbing his tired eyes gently. He's suddenly bored and would rather get the rest of his sleep in peace. “Is that all you came here for _Princess_? Because I don’t need a secret admirer and I really should be getting enough beauty sleep for my big day tomorrow.”

The next few things happen quickly. At first the soldier chuckles quietly at the biting words , but then like a switch is flipped, in the next instant he’s rising out of the chair like a lightning bolt and snaking his metal fingers around Jaebum’s wrist, yanking his body back against the bed. Jaebum, caught off guard, thrashes around reflexively, but can’t escape the death grip on his arm.

“They warned me of your smart mouth,” comes dejectedly from the soldier as he crawls on top of Jaebum and snaps his wrist into the bed strap. He secures the strap into place with a rough click of the buckle, eliciting a hiss from Jaebum as it digs tighter into his skin. The soldier ties Jaebum's other hand down, and then his own hand comes back clutching a tiny silver blade. He drags it down Jaebum’s cheek, settling it at the corner of his mouth. He presses it down just slightly, tauntingly, enough for Jaebum to flinch away. “Sweetheart, if your tongue is going to get you into trouble, maybe I’ll just have to cut it off.”

It's a complete one-eighty from his previous hint of a gentle personality, but _this_ is the Winter Soldier. This is what Jaebum likes to hear, what he wants guiding him around. Despite the sharp edge pressed into his cheek Jaebum sees this as a challenge, the track record of the Winter Soldier be damned. If he wants a fight, Jaebum will surely give it to him.

He notes their positions, the soldier straddling him while his own arms are restrained underneath, feeling the heavy weight of the man on top of him. It's warm and resilient, and most of all - intoxicatingly hot. He cracks a wicked smirk at the audacity of it all, mind traveling elsewhere as the soldier's meaty thighs frame his body menacingly.

“You could do something else with my tongue instead,” he flutters his glossy eyes, remembering how he’d been the constant source of attention from the soldier. He remembers the small touches that left him burning, the ones he _knows_ the soldier would linger with on purpose. “I know you want to.”

The soldier’s face falls, as does his knife. But there’s something else there that Jaebum catches, just in the way the soldier’s eyes dilate just slightly in the darkened room. It sends a small thrill up Jaebum’s spine, and he’s got him right where he wants him, cornered into a wall at the joking prospect of promiscuity. He wonders vaguely if the soldier's ever been with anyone like that - if he was even willing to try.

The Winter Soldier sits up straight, tucking the knife back in his pocket with a sigh. He forces himself off of Jaebum, but his impression is still there, trails of fire scorching the places he previously touched. Jaebum himself has to breathe deeply to control his staggering heart rate, which spikes even more when the soldier straps his ankles back down.

Jaebum doesn’t feel bad about the confrontation, but he’s certainly disappointed when the man before him scoots back to the window and pushes it open, signalling his exit.

“Come on,” Jaebum pouts, watching the man haul himself onto the ledge. “We were just getting to know each other.”

The soldier swings one leg outside, then looks back at him through the shadows he’s so good at melting in between. “See you tomorrow, 4421.”

The graduation ceremony goes swiftly the next morning. As a symbol of allegiance with the organization and to prove he’ll never betray them, they tattoo a piece of them onto a piece of him. Jaebum thinks it’s a brand, something silently claiming him as theirs, but in time he will learn to accept the two new dots tattooed below his left eyebrow. They’re small enough to go unrecognized, but big enough to tell Jaebum that this will be his life forever. There’s no escaping the Academy now, as the mark of them will follow him for the rest of his life.

Like the soldier said, he gets assigned his first mission that day, an easy one that involves the assassination of a wealthy Ukraine delegate and his men. Apparently the guy is a threat to Korean national security, and they need him gone fast.

They set Jaebum up on a private flight out of North Korea, along with a few more seasoned operatives and of course, the Winter Soldier. It’s weird seeing the man he’s come to know as he deadliest assassin in the world try to blend in with jeans, a face mask, and a green hoodie, and they both still have an indescribable tension that forces the soldier to ignore him most of the flight, so Jaebum doesn’t feel bad laughing at his disguise.

When the silence gets too much to bare, Jaebum sits up straight and glances over to where the soldier is nestled in the back of the plane reading what looks to be like an American newspaper. He decides to make small talk (as best as he can considering they’re both trained assassins on their way at this very moment to kill someone). “If we’re going to be partners, I’ve got to call you something other than ‘soldier’,” he dares, waiting for the moment the other man looks up at him in acknowledgement. He doesn’t. “What’s your real name? Mine isn’t 4421, in case you were wondering, it’s Jaebum.”

“Yes, I know,” the soldier whispers slowly, eyes continuing to scan the words on the paper before him.

Jaebum should have figured that, but still, he’s blinking in surprise, hanging onto the back of his seat like a child at play. “You do?” There’s no response on the soldier’s part, which rubs Jaebum wrong. He wants recognition, he _wants_ the attention the soldier has already been giving him. “And your name is?”

Flipping the page in his paper, he’s quick to respond. “I don’t have one.” He finally glances up, “You can just call me ‘soldier’.”

Jaebum shivers from the eye contact, wanting to press more. But he doesn’t, their pilot’s voice filling the cabin to let them know they will be landing soon. Jaebum reluctantly slumps back in his seat and pouts, feeling like a kid again. He knows it’s childish, but the fact that he’s not getting anything from the soldier makes him as defiant as ever. Jaebum will get him to crack, one way or another. He’s got a few cards up his sleeves, and when he sneaks a glance backwards, he finds the man in question already looking at him inquisitively.

They arrive in the Ukraine just as the sun begins to settle, which perfectly allows Jaebum to become the shadows of the night if he so chooses. Arine Kolisnyk, their target, is one of the leading delegates to the prime minister of the country, but rumors of him dipping his feet into foreign weaponry that threatens the sanctity of Korean life are what put dollar signs out for his head.

Along with being a staple in the Ukrainian government, he’s known around the country for his incessant itch to gamble and his underlying sex addiction. They know Kolisnyk will be held up at a fancy high class casino for the weekend, so with that information in mind, they set up command in a hotel room across the street, just Jaebum and the soldier while their pilot and small entourage take their computers and surveillance equipment into the room next door. Once they have eyes on the target Jaebum wastes no time shuffling into his disguise - a velvety blue suit with a frilly white lace cravat to compliment, light brown leather shoes, and to top it all off, a pink wig that will certainly grab the attention of Kolisnyk. The delegate apparently has a thing for the outlandish pretty types, for both women _and_ men.

Jaebum shuffles to the door after a warning from the soldier not to do anything stupid, turning back with the cock of his hip to wink coyly. “Don’t miss me too much, sunshine.”

The mission plays out exactly how Jaebum wants it to. He finds Kolisnyk easily, at a blackjack table betting thousands - mere pennies to people like him. Jaebum chats him up, putting on his best lingering moves partnered with the doe-eyed glassy look in his eyes. It gets Kolisnyk interested, and luckily Jaebum’s been schooled in the basics of slavic languages to hold their conversation nicely.

It only takes around forty-five minutes of Jaebum’s flirtatious giggles and a few whispers of naughty words in the older man’s ear before he’s being ushered in the direction of the elevator, and into what he understands is the man’s room a few floors above the casino.

Jaebum is backed up against the elevator doors and ravaged from head to toe, leaning his mouth out of the way every now and then to avoid the dna from his saliva being found once the police find the body.

But he presses back into Kolisnyk with his leg hiked up around the older gentlemen’s waist, moaning filthily in the small elevator shaft. While this is all a game to Jaebum, it’s a game he knows how to play well. The art of seduction had already come to him naturally as a trainee, with his cat eyes and strong muscles that made men and women go weak at the knees. He knows what people like and how to get them panting in the easiest of ways before going in for the kill.

Like the black widow spider, Jaebum fulfills the needs and satisfactions of his mates before striking a cold hard bite into their neck, engulfing them in the venom of his prowess.

Kolisnyk drags Jaebum carelessly into his room, having already undone most of the buttons of his white shirt in the elevator. Jaebum lets the man do whatever he wants with him knowing his time is almost up, giving him sort of a last wish before his ultimate demise.

Kisses are pressed to Jaebum’s neck as he’s backed into the bed and lands with a squeak on top. He makes sure to moan prettily when Kolisnyk crawls across his lap and rips his shirt the rest of the way open, yanking it down his arms and tossing it off to the side.

“You’re a good boy,” Kolisnyk whispers in his ear, then his lips trail wet kisses down Jaebum’s torso until he gets to his belt, sighing eagerly. He mouths at Jaebum’s semi-hard erection which sends a wave of arousal through his body.

Jaebum hasn’t gotten laid in so long due to the Academy’s strict rules about fraternizing, and it would be so easy for him to just let this man take him the rest of the way. Kolisnyk isn’t ugly, he’s attractive really, with more muscle power to hold Jaebum down with while he raws him into the sheets. He wants to enjoy the free sex as much as he knows the man palming at his dick is, but he knows he has a job to do, and if he lolligags and something goes wrong, he’ll be the one to pay for it.

The click of his belt unhooking brings Jaebum back to the situation at hand, his left hand fisting in the delicate blonde hair on Kolisnyk’s head while the other reaches around to the back of his own pants.

“I’m sorry we can’t finish this,” he sighs, petting the man’s hair, who has no idea what’s about to come. The barrel of the silencer lines up neatly with the temple of Kolisnyk’s head, the Ukrainian man having no time to register what it is before Jaebum is pulling the trigger.

The blonde hair of the delegate becomes stained with blood and other cranial substances as Jaebum slides out from underneath his body and let’s the man fall against the fine fabric that covers the bed.

Killing is never easy. It’s not ideal nor self-righteous knowing someone won’t be able to take their next breath because of him, knowing their families will never hug or kiss them again. But it saves him for now, and even though it’s harsh, Jaebum doesn’t spend to much time dwelling over it. He can’t, because it will haunt him forever if he lets them win.

So he only needs a second to ease his burdened conscience before he’s rising from the bed to find his discarded shirt.

“That took far too long.” A voice he knows well booms from across the room near a squeaky clean glass door that leads to an outside balcony. Jaebum flinches up in surprise, his shirt messily tangled in his hand.

“What? Were you watching the whole time?” The soldier eyes him warily as he enters the threshold of the grand room, inspecting his kill carefully. Jaebum’s still a little out of breath and currently raging with arousal, so something inside him heats up at the thought of being watched during the sexual excursion. Jaebum’s not one for voyeurism, but something about the soldier’s eyes on him as he was being ravished pleases him to no end. He smirks and rips off the offending wig, arms sliding into the holes of his button up. “Then I should have kept it going and offered you the whole show.”

The soldier merely rolls his eyes, already accustomed to Jaebum’s coy antics. He stands straight, eyes fleeting from Jaebum’s bare chest to his face. “This isn’t protocol, and you wasted precious time.”

“What precious time? I had all night to get the job done. Sounds like someone’s jealous _he_ didn’t get to seduce the delegate,” Jaebum taunts with the tug of his lip under his teeth. He then comes in closer to the soldier, close enough that he can smell the musk around his body. Jaebum gives him a once over, and bats his eyes like a little girl. “Or maybe he’s jealous _of_ the delegate.”

The soldier, true to himself, holds his stance with his arms crossed, an unamused glare etched onto his face where his eyebrows pinch together. If their proximity wasn’t so close, Jaebum would laugh in his face for taking things so seriously all the time.

“Just clean up your mess before his security detail arrives.” The soldier pauses, eyes trailing down Jaebum’s chest and stopping somewhere near his pants. Jaebum isn’t paying attention to where the soldier looks, too focused on the clean cut of his jaw and the way his brown locks sweep gracefully into his eyes.  But then the soldier’s attention is back on him, the insides of his cheeks rolling beneath his teeth. “And take care of _that_.”

Because Jaebum is defiant, wants to get under the soldier’s skin, and is severely aroused, he clicks his tongue, daring to soften his voice teasingly. “Why don’t you help me? Clean up, I mean.”

There’s a glint in Jaebum’s eye that he knows the Winter Soldier sees, and even if Jaebum is joking (well, half-joking, maybe), he knows the assassin before him will just roll his eyes and tell Jaebum to fuck off like he’s used to.

Only this time, Jaebum’s breath is caught in his chest when the soldier’s hands slither around both sides of his waist, fingers dipping into the hem of his pants. In an instant the soldier meets his hooded gaze, licking his lips and bringing Jaebum’s body flush to his.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” The man breathes, mouth parted on a groan where it’s just an inch or two away from Jaebum’s own. Jaebum’s brain is still struggling to catch up to what’s happening, what with the way the soldier is looking at him. He didn’t really think of this as an option before but with his erection is brushing against the front of the soldier’s pants, he does now. He lets himself be moved backwards as he watches the man’s lips move helplessly when he speaks.

The soldier’s face moves in closer, his mouth hovering just over Jaebum’s ear, his hot breath sending a shiver down his spine. “Jaebum, you couldn’t handle me,” he taunts, fingers digging harder into the plush skin of his hips, knowing the metal will surely cause a bruise. Now that Jaebum’s seen the prospect he wants to counter the man with an “Oh, yeah?”, but then before anything else happens, the fun is halted when Jaebum is thrown carelessly onto the bed with a yelp, the soldier making no move to join him.

Instead he spins around and heads for the door, breathing hard. “Now clean up your mess.”

 

 

Jaebum is on edge when he gets back to North Korea. He’s on edge when he continues mastering his skills at the Academy, and even more on edge when he’s sent on new missions that could either make or break his career. He completes them easily, but sometimes the Winter Soldier is there with him, either as guidance the Academy still thinks he needs, or as a partner to help complete the task or to accomplish something else altogether. 

Over the next fallen months of winter that drift into spring, the Headmaster of the Academy finds that Jaebum and the Winter Soldier work well enough together, and start assigning them on cases more as equal partners. Jaebum’s skills are the only ones that match with the soldier, and the soldier is able to use Jaebum in areas he himself cannot go or blend in with.

It means more time spent together, less time apart. The tension between them still bleeds in a tight line, growing longer and thinner every time they’re near one another. Jaebum never fails to dance flirtatiously around the soldier, and in return, the soldier always rolls his eyes and ducks away, talking about “unprofessionalism”.

But however unprofessional Jaebum is, the soldier never tells, and sometimes, if Jaebum is lucky, he’ll catch the man hiding a shy smile out of the corner of his eye.

They’re not friends, barely coworkers even, but they get the job done together and Jaebum loves pushing the soldier’s buttons to see how far he can go. And what pleases him most is the soldier never stops his sarcastic tongue or asks him to tone down the play-not-so-play flirting, always one to bite back and keep Jaebum on his toes.

Now they’re on a reconnaissance mission in the deep underground activities of the Sao Paulo streets, to retrieve stolen data plans from the Chinese army that have something to do with chemical weapons. The rendezvous point is going to take place at a local club, in the pits of the inner workings. Jaebum and the soldier prepare for the mission by arriving early, before the deal is supposed to take place, dressed up in their best club attire.

Jaebum is sporting a black tank that shows his biceps well and matching black jeans with holes perfectly cut at the knees to give him room to breathe. His black hair is gelled and swept up, and he’s even dabbed a little pink glitter under his eyes, figuring he’s in Brazil, so what the hell. The soldier on the other hand, can’t show too much because the entire metal arm will give him away, so he just sticks with a hoodie and jeans, hair splayed down lightly.

Their task for now, is to scope out the place and try to blend in. It’s easy enough for Jaebum, who melts into the energized club full of party goers, confetti in his hair and a girl and a guy on both sides. He dances between them like he hasn’t in years, because the Academy never allowed for such things. Anything going against the nature of the school was punishable by death if they saw fit, so Jaebum takes this moment of defiance to rub their faces in what he’s missed out on for so long.

He enjoys himself for the most part, but there’s a pair of eyes on him from across the club, burning holes into the back of his skull. It feels good, like he’s wanted in a weirdly twisted way, so he relishes in the thought of being watched by losing himself in the feeling of the younger girl carding her fingers through his hair. He knows he’s getting distracted, but his eyes are still peeled and focused on the mission at hand. If he makes the soldier jealous along the way, well then he will have succeeded in more ways than one.

“You need to focus on the assignment,” the same pair of eyes are now standing next to Jaebum at the bar as he leaves the throng of Brazilians to get some water. He detects a hint of possessiveness under the veil of irritation.

The water numbs the dull ache in his throat, tipping in back in one go. “I am focused on the assignment,” he’s pulsing with a newfound sense of energy, clearly from the soldier for acting like a jealous boyfriend. “No one’s even here yet.”

The soldier’s sulking eyes remain transfixed on the side of his face, like he’s compelling Jaebum to say something else. Only the music coming from the speakers changes drastically, blaring an uptempo samba beat that lights a fire somewhere inside Jaebum’s soul.

He downs a second glass of water and hops away from the counter, daring to wrap his fingers around the soldier’s wrist. “Come on, let’s dance.”

The soldier of course, doesn’t allow himself to be taken so easily. He stands his ground, face turned into an uneasy frown. “I don’t dance.”

The happy fleeting feelings in Jaebum’s chest collapses and his mouth morphs into a frown. He knew it was a long shot anyway. “Come on, you can’t say no to a samba!” For emphasis he shimmies forward into the soldier’s space, earning him a light push back. Jaebum just giggles it off, hands coming to rest on his hips as he sighs overdramatically. “I bet you’ve never had fun a day in your life. Fine, just wait here to carry out your normal mission and then you can go back to your boring life of killing people and _oof-_ ”

In a rapid matter of seconds Jaebum’s arm is ripped from his hip and dragged across the dance floor, metal fingers digging into his wrist in protest. Smiling to himself in victory, Jaebum declares himself the winner of this round against the soldier, glad to know he can still easily get under his skin.

Jaebum follows helplessly behind the soldier until he’s yanked harshly to the other man’s chest, arms thrown up to steady his balance. Jaebum wasn’t expecting anything to happen, and he certainly wasn’t expecting _this_ as the soldier places one hand in Jaebum’s own as the other wraps around his lower back.

Flush together, all Jaebum can do is blink down at their barely centimeter height difference, the soldier’s gaze unfazed. He stumbles when the soldier pushes him backwards, feet tripping over themselves until he realizes they’re following the steps of the samba and he rights them. The realizes then that the soldier somehow _knows_ this dance, but trying to place where and when he learned it is a mystery.

“When did the Winter Soldier learn how to dance?” He’s no shy of impressed, letting himself be lead by the strong arms around him. The soldier spins him a few times before tugging Jaebum back to his chest, eyes wide like a doe.

“Can’t remember.”

Jaebum doesn’t have enough time to ask why not before the hand around his lower back skirts down his thigh to fit behind his knee, bringing his leg slowly around the soldier’s waist. Their fronts press together even harder, and Jaebum has to bite back a gasp when he’s dipped, the blue and red hues of the club lights dancing in the whites of his eyes.

He’s righted after a few dizzying seconds, the soldier’s eyes glinting with satisfaction. His hand remains tucked under Jaebum’s knee, wrapping it further around his hip. Jaebum has to hold himself back from embarrassing himself by getting hard or groaning out loud.

“I hate you,” the soldier whispers, eyes cast down on Jaebum’s lips, where his own are a hairsbreadth distance away. With a lump stuck in the back of his throat, Jaebum only manages a coy smirk in return and a small hum, waiting for the inevitable to happen.

“You love me,” he counters. The soldier doesn't disagree.

He waits for the soldier to lean in the rest of the way, just to prove he’s not imagining it’s about to happen. But it doesn't. Instead the soldier pauses altogether, eyes still caught on the plush pink of Jaebum’s mouth, unmoving. His grip becomes tighter around Jaebum’s knee and hand until he’s squeaking out in pain, trying to climb out of the icy grip. The soldier blinks in rapid succession, chest expanding up and down wildly. It’s only when Jaebum finally pries himself away from the man before him that he comes back to his senses, frantic wide eyes fleeting across the forms in the club, like he’s searching for something.

“What’s wrong?” Jaebum catches his breath in confusion, watching as the soldier helplessly turns away from him, hands shaking.

“I have to go.”

Rushing away through the crowded walls of the club, Jaebum can swear that by the way the soldier had looked - eyes wide, breathing uneven, and shaky hands - that he was having a panic attack. But from what, is the question fumbling through Jaebum’s mind as he follows the soldier’s path to catch up with him, trailing him as he skirts his way out the club’s back door.

“Soldier, what’s wro-”

Time doesn’t allow Jaebum to complete his sentence as a hail of bullets fall down between them, the sharp noise of metal against metal clanking in his ears. All at once the soldier is in front of Jaebum protecting him with his metal arm that shields them both, but it’s not enough as a shooter to their right has precise aim and hits the soldier square in the shoulder.

The man groans in pain and moves for a weapon, but Jaebum is quicker and pulls him down behind a particularly foul smelling dumpster right outside the club’s exit. In their distracted moments dancing, Jaebum was foolish enough to forget all about the mission at hand. He let his guard down stupidly, and because of his mistake, the soldier was hit and he’ll likely be next if he’s not fast.

Footsteps close in on them quickly, but Jaebum is sharper in his moves, rolling out from behind the dumpster as he snags the pistol tucked under his shirt and the small silver revolver holstered to his ankle. Not wanting to waste any time that could kill him, Jaebum shoots at the first thing he sees, one of the five men shrinking to the ground numbly.

The next series of shots that ring through the barrels of his gun manage to take another man out, but a bullet from the left manages to graze the skin of his bicep. The pain doesn’t do much to deter him so Jaebum moves faster and does what he’s best at, somersaulting off the side of the dumpster to get his legs around the waist of the taller of the three men left, wrapping his fingers around his wrist as he does.

Firing a shot from the mercenary’s own gun, Jaebum takes out the third assassin before detaching his legs from around the other man’s waist to snake them around his neck. Pulling the man down roughly by his jean clad thighs, Jaebum quickly rights himself with a gun in hand, aimed directly at the head of the last assassin.

Jaebum cocks his head, ready for the showdown as he catches his breath.

“Put your weapon down,” the older man says in a thick portuguese accent, breathing hard as well. “Before anyone else gets h-”

A shot rings out of nowhere, silencing the man as a bullet is drilled into the front of his skull, perfectly between the eyebrows execution style. Jaebum’s trigger remains untouched under his finger, his body turning back to where the soldier hobbles the the dumpster for support, gun in hand and blood oozing from his shoulder.

“I hate you.”

Despite the tiny hiccup in their mission, the stolen Chinese data plans are retrieved with little to no more injuries or lives taken. Now Jaebum works effortlessly in the bathroom of their hotel room, tucked in between the legs of the shirtless Winter Soldier where he’s propped up on the sink to clean his wound and stitch him up as best as possible.

They’ve been taught survival exercises a plethora of times, including what to do if you’ve been shot in the field. Jaebum takes it upon himself to fix the soldier up, hoping to clean up the mess he made tonight from acting so reckless.

They don’t speak for a while as Jaebum tends to the wound in the man’s shoulder, digging deep into the flesh to find the rest of the bullet fragments he hasn’t pulled out yet. The soldier hisses when Jaebum latches onto one, metal fingers digging into the basin of the porcelain sink.

There’s no doubt in Jaebum’s mind that he himself is at fault for this. Jaebum has a track record of losing sight of things occasionally, and taking risks when they haven’t got any time to. This was one of those moments, Jaebum thinking with his dick and not his brain - which led to the best North Korean operative being injured.

The soldier had told him before to watch his recklessness, but Jaebum had only teased him about it and told him not to be such a stiff. Now as Jaebum removes the bloodied gauze from the soldier’s shoulder and begins setting the stitches into place, he thinks to himself silently about the changes he should make if he wants to keep going, how he can’t be acting like a bratty teenager or run his mouth every time there’s trouble.

“Say something.”

The soldier’s almost soothing voice startles Jaebum from the thoughts clouding his mind, and he can’t look up yet, not ready too.

“I’ll take full responsibility for what happened tonight,” he says instead, eyes never leaving the wire as he thread’s it through the bruised flesh. He doesn’t even want to know what the man before him is thinking.

“You’ll wha-”

“It’s my fault you got shot,” Jaebum bites back before the soldier can finish. While Jaebum’s never been on this end of the blame game, he knows the pieces to play and he’s sad he’s lost this round. It could have cost him the best and sacrificed the mission. “If I wasn’t screwing around and trying to rile you up we could done the job right.”

Suddenly, there’s a cold finger under his chin, forcing Jaebum to look up. “Hey, it’s not your fault. I was the one who panicked and ran off blindly.”

Gulping at the intimate gesture, Jaebum hates the way looking into the tired eyes of the Winter Soldier makes him feel a little more at ease. It should scare him, how civil they’re being despite the circumstances, and his breath shouldn’t shudder at the way he’s being watched like a small, innocent child.

There’s something building in the air, and maybe deep down, Jaebum is curious enough to let it grow. But even though he wants to dive into the tension rising, he tucks his chin away from the soldier’s finger and continues sewing him together like a rag doll. “Yeah, because of me.”

“It wasn’t because of you. I had a flash of a memory and I freaked out.” The soldier pleads now with him, mouth softened from the hard line it was in before into something warmer, more inviting. “Don’t beat yourself up about it, I’ve faced worse with no one there to help me.”

He's right, Jaebum can tell from the markings on his chest and the glimpses he gets of his back, covered in battle scars from knives and guns. Not to mention the fact that his arm is gone (Jaebum's never been brave enough to ask how), replaced by the strong metal prosthetic he's learned to live with.

To make it all worse, this was the most raw emotion Jaebum had ever seen coming from the man before him in the months they’d been working together as partners, and it terrifies him for reasons he doesn’t understand.

“But it was careless, and if they find out-”

“No one is going to find out.” There are a pair of hands clutching Jaebum’s, squashing his fears. Then in one smooth motion, the soldier takes the needle out of Jaebum’s hand and pierces it through his skin to give himself the last suture before tying it and snapping it off with his bare fingers. “I have too much respect for you to even think about telling them.”

“You do?” Jaebum asks genuinely, surprised at this. The entire time they’d worked together it had seemed as though the soldier babied him, looking down at him like they were not evenly matched. Perhaps they were both the sides of the same coin, Jaebum as heads and the Winter Soldier as tails, flipped into their fate by chance. He looks up and notices the distance between them, fighting the pulse blaring in his ear when the soldier stares down with soft eyes. “Even when I press your buttons?”

“I like when you press my buttons,” the soldier dares to press forward, their noses an inch apart and eyes cast down at Jaebum’s lips. His left hand, the one Jaebum had dreamt about so many nights as a child, lingers by his cheek glinting under the light of the bathroom. “And your tongue isn’t as sharp as you think it is.”

The soldier’s breath is hot on his lips, inviting Jaebum for a taste. He preens at the assassin’s words, the crude insinuation of them. Cocking his head, Jaebum surges forward between his legs, noses brushing. “You willing to test that theory?”

The soldier doesn’t blink, but his arms snake around Jaebum’s waist oh-so slowly, coming to rest just above the cleft of his ass.

“Only if you're willing to lose.”

Heart lodged in his throat, the tension that was building from the moment they met bubbles over, Jaebum throwing all caution to the wind. He gives into the soldier’s teasing game, his own hands coming to rest on the sides of the man where he still sits perched on the sink.

“Well, well, well. Look what we have here. I was right all along,” Jaebum taunts against the soldier’s mouth, smirking wickedly. “The Winter Soldier really does have a thing for m-”

Chapped lips are on his before Jaebum can even finish his sentence, scrambling to keep up with the Winter Soldier’s mouth as he tugs Jaebum impossibly closer, legs wrapping around his hips. Jaebum’s hands snap to the other’s waist and dig in roughly, scooting his ass to the edge of the sink to bring their bodies flush together. When Jaebum moves into a more comfortable position in his feet, the movement grinds their crotches together slowly.

When the soldier groans, he breaks their kiss for only a moment to gasp out,

“Shut up for once in your goddamn life.”

They resume their frantic control for one another's mouths, Jaebum opening wider when the soldier dares to lick his way in across Jaebum’s bottom lip. Sighing as he meets the soldier halfway, Jaebum drags the mercenary off the counter by his hips and doesn’t break their kissing as his feet land on the floor silently.

Everywhere they touch is burning brimstone, it engulfs Jaebum where the soldier takes control of their positions for now, backing him against the wall gently. Jaebum’s hands move up to the soldier's face to hold him beneath his palms, mouths slick with spit and breathing labored where they refuse to separate.

Trapped in the tight fabric of their jeans, neither are comfortable where their growing erections are held down and dragged against slowly. The soldier continues to lead to way by mimicking the one move he pulled on Jaebum in the club, tugging his leg up by the underside of his knee to wrap around his hip. The soldier swallows Jaebum’s gasp when he’s lifted into the air and settled onto the other man’s waist, lips breaking for the shyest of seconds when the soldier walks him back into the bedroom and plops him down on the bed.

Soon Jaebum’s shirt is removed and his nipples tongued red and swollen, erection still pulsing in his pants where the soldier refuses to touch him. The operative kisses down Jaebum’s toned torso and noses in the fine hair that leads under his bottom layers, taunting him of what’s to come and keeping him just shy of release.

“Soldier, please.” Jaebum hates begging, but he’s given no choice, squirming underneath the man where he holds him down easily.

The soldier's hands had been waiting patiently at Jaebum’s jean buttons, but suddenly he’s crawling back up the bed to mouth at the tan skin of Jaebum’s neck, sucking on his pulsepoint.

“Call me by my name,” he whispers in Jaebum’s ear, pleading.

“But you don’t have a name.”

“Jinyoung,” he lifts himself on his elbows to peer down at Jaebum, eyes blown wide from arousal. His face is raw, filled with a million emotions at once. “It’s Jinyoung.”

Jaebum thinks he hears an _“I think”_ muttered barely below the soldier’s - no _Jinyoung’s_ words, but he ignores it in order to pull Jinyoung back down on top of him and suffocate him with the tug of his lips.

“Jinyoung, _please_ ,” he tests on his tongue, finding he quite likes the sound of that name. Jinyoung seems to like it too, if the kittenesque look he gives Jaebum is anything to go by. “Please fuck me already.”

What Jaebum begs for, Jinyoung is most happy to oblige. After Jaebum is thoroughly prepped and cared for, he pushes Jinyoung back against the bed and mounts his hips would a horse, wanting to take some of the pressure off Jinyoung’s performance since he had just been shot in the arm hours ago.

Jaebum does most of the work but Jinyoung fucks into him just as good, both panting, sweaty messes where their bodies slap together in the heat of the night. Jaebum rides him until he’s found his release across Jinyoung’s stomach, legs burning and thighs giving out when Jinyoung finally comes inside with a breathy moan of his name.

They curl around each other after Jinyoung pulls out and the tension around them has shattered, Jaebum kissing the palm of Jinyoung’s hand where it cradles his cheek.

“Jinyoung, huh? It’s a nice name, but what did you mean by, ‘I think’?”

“Oh,” Jinyoung’s eyes fall just as his chest does from breathing so hard. “I don’t remember much about my past before this life I have now, it's all mostly one big blur. But I remember two names standing out, Jinyoung most likely being my own.”

“What’s the other one?” Jaebum dares to ask.

Jinyoung finds his eyes once more, only this time they look darker, and not all the way there. Perhaps there’s a memory behind the name he has yet to discover.

Snaking his arm over the side of the bed, Jaebum shifts so Jinyoung can reach under the matters and drag out his bag. Fingers descend into an unzipped pocket and emerge timidly with a dangling piece of metal that he holds out to Jaebum. It’s a small chain with clasps that haven’t been fixed, and nestled at the bottom are a pair of silver dog tags, rusted slightly from age.

Like it’s his most prized possession, Jinyoung slips the necklace into Jaebum’s hand with a sigh. “I found this is one of my pockets a long time ago, I think I used to know him.”

Inspecting it delicately, Jaebum runs the pad of his finger softly over the indented material, imagining the story the tag holds and how Jinyoung once played a part in it. 

“Jackson Wang.”

 

Months go by until the pillowy soft winter of December gradually transitions into the new year, signalling the end of one chapter and at the same time the beginning of another.

Kindling under the blanket of time was an unexpected relationship that brought peace and warmth during the difficult times that followed. Jaebum and Jinyoung fell into each other almost too easily after their first night together in Brazil, two fucked up souls searching for something to keep them tied down to the last thread of humanity they had left.

It wasn’t practical in their situation, but it was easy, and it gave both of them something real to latch on to instead of the lives they were forced to take and people they had put at risk.

That’s all it was at first, a feeling. After a long mission the pair would tumble into bed and Jaebum would just _feel_ , pretending for a moment that there was nothing else in the world around them, where he could live and fuck and sleep without having to answer to someone else.

It had started off as a feeling, but then it had grown into something else. When Jinyoung would kiss him to simply taste his warmth, or would sneak into his room some nights and unlock Jaebum’s hands and feet so they could lay together, it had blurred the lines of what they were.

Jaebum learns many things about Jinyoung, from what he is (a super soldier, no less), to what he’s done, how long he’s been around, and how he doesn’t remember where he came from or the person he was before. Jinyoung’s been alive a long time - this Jaebum knew from the memory of the Winter Soldier finding him when he was a child - due to something that had happened to him when he was younger.

Jaebum learns of everything the Academy has done to Jinyoung and everything they’ve ever made him do, playing with his mind like putty in the basement dwellings of their facilities. He learns of the code words that when spit in rapid succession clear his mind into a blank slate, making them his for however long they want. It hurts to hear about and he can’t even begin to imagine what Jinyoung feels about it all, but he has hope that one day he can get out of it, that they _both_ can get out of it and try to live normal lives.

Somehow along the way through everything, Jaebum had fallen for the soldier slowly, like sands cascading through an hourglass. Jinyoung was beautiful to him despite whatever he’s done, despite the metal arm, and despite the way he gazes off soulfully when he thinks Jaebum isn’t looking, mind roaming to far off distances where Jaebum cannot go.

Mission after mission they fall into their little bubble hiding themselves from the rest of the world, but things aren’t allowed to be perfect for them as they’d like.

On one mission in particular down along the Chinese-Russian border, things go awry when they’re sent to kill a Russian mobster hiding out in his safehouse. In the commotion of the fighting, Jaebum miscalculates where the target will be, and ends up with a shattered kneecap from a short-range rifle. In the frantic panic of the moment Jinyoung takes out the shooter and seven others before rushing to Jaebum’s side and hoisting his crumpled body into his arms.

In the moment of blind panic they let the target get away, and Jinyoung’s selfishness costs them both the mission and the prestige within their organization.

The Headmaster comes down on both of them hard, Jaebum for his recklessness and nearly killing himself, and Jinyoung even more for sacrificing the mission for another. Jaebum’s knee is fixed up and he’s put on bed rest and rehab for the following months until his knee is fully functional. In those long, painful, and boring months Jaebum is left utterly alone in his room, cut off from most people, and what’s worse, he doesn’t hear a sound from Jinyoung.

Radio silence.

His nights are spent filled with worry, knowing that deep down they’re doing awful things to him for screwing up their plans. He’s heard whispers around the corridors of what it could be, but he closes his eyes to shut the nightmares out.

He just wants Jinyoung back in one piece, and then once that happens, Jaebum vows to get them out for good. He doesn’t know how he’ll do it, but he’s not going to let either of them rot in the Academy’s basement any longer.

When his knee is finally healed he’s sent by the Headmaster personally on a trip to the Swiss Alps to confiscate a new drug developed that’s meant to enhance human genes. He and a squad of three others set up base at a local lodge, and when he shuts the door to his cabin and sets his bag on his bed, a hushed breath catches his attention.

In less than a second he’s got his gun aimed and ready to kill whoever’s stepped foot in his territory, laughing internally that the person thought they could get the jump on him. Only he’s surprised to find the one person he’s been without for so long staring back at him with broken eyes.

Gasping out loud, Jaebum discards his gun as he rushes forward to bring Jinyoung into his arms, not bothering to check if he’s holding on too tight. He sighs into Jinyoung’s shoulder as he clutches back, closing his eyes to savor the warmth he’d missed.

“Oh my god, you’re okay.” Jaebum retracts himself to pepper kisses down Jinyoung’s face before planting a sweet, lingering one on his lips. He pulls back when he notices Jinyoung’s lack of reciprocation, eyes scanning his face nervously. There are a few dark spots, probably from previous cuts or bruises, his cheeks are thinner, and his once beautiful brown eyes are sunken and devoid of all light.

What makes it worse is the way Jinyoung watches him softly but with no feeling, like he’s trying to memorize every detail on Jaebum’s face while also lost somewhere else. “H-hey,” Jaebum stutters, hands coming to frame the sides of Jinyoung’s face, thumbs sliding over his cheeks lovingly. He doesn't want to imagine what he's been through, but he can see it plain as day, and it hurts like a rusted nail. “What’s wrong?”

It’s like magic, when Jinyoung’s eyes burn back with the slightest form of life, a small smile forming where he tilts his head to kiss Jaebum. “Nothing,” he breathes against his lips, “Just kiss me.”

So Jaebum does, wordlessly giving Jinyoung everything he wants and more. They kiss against the door, then against the walls, and finally, they kiss as Jaebum is taken apart under the covers by the only person who has ever given a shit about him until they're both out of breath panting into each other’s matted hair.

Looking into his eyes as Jinyoung makes a mess of him in the sheets, Jaebum feels the warmth of affection all over his body, starting from his toes and crawling up into his chest, where it drills a hole in his heart.

“Jinyoung, stay with me,” he blurts out by accident, but doesn’t take the words back. They're not what he means to say at all, but having never been raised in the real world he’s never known what real love feels like, and can't bring himself to utter the words out loud. He cries this out again instead, hoping Jinyoung understands what he means by them. _You and me, through thick and thin, lost and out of luck together._

Like his beg is a vice grip around Jinyoung, he comes then at the implication of them, holding Jaebum’s hips down and stilling inside him, eyes shut tight. Jaebum comes as soon as he feels Jinyoung spilling inside of him, clenching around his lover and head falling back into the pillows with a cry.

Jinyoung slips out of him achingly slow, but soon their lips are back together, breathless but filled with something more. They kiss until their heads are dizzy, and Jinyoung slides down to rest his head over Jaebum’s bare chest, hand around his waist.

“We’re gonna get out of here,” Jaebum whispers into the musty scent of the post-coital room, hands tied in Jinyoung’s sweaty brown mop. “I promise you.”

Jinyoung says nothing, only planting a kiss on Jaebum’s glistening skin, right over where his heart hammers in place.

With Jinyoung by his side again Jaebum is able to focus better on carrying out the mission at hand, setting up their trap in the high mountains where the shipment will be delivered by train. Tucked in the last car the train will pull, their job will be to anchor the car to their jet by cable rope, unlatch it from the train, and jettison back to Korea.

One of their operatives is already on board, disguising himself as crew member to give them the upper hand down below. A second operative flys the jet they’ll use for the operation, which means Jaebum, Jinyoung, and the third operative, Commander Jung, will gather themselves on top of the train to carry it out.

Even though Jinyoung has been acting oddly quiet since their time together in the cabin, he follows the orders of the commander easily, and when the jet is within rage, he shoots a cable across that the three use to shimmy down to the last train car.

Minding the snow, the trio work together in the blizzard-like conditions of the fresh alps to secure the cable lines to all four sides of the car, wind and snow slapping at them fiercely. Jaebum has to be careful not to lose his balance a few times, minding his footing on the frozen terrain.

When the cables are connected their undercover operative joins them at the top just as Commander Jung climbs down the side between the two cars to begin detaching them, their mission almost a success. Almost.

While Jaebum waits for the commander to finish detaching the car, soft footsteps moving behind him.

“Jaebum,” he hears, spinning to catch the sound and eyes landing sharply on Jinyoung standing before him. To Jaebum’s confusion, he holds out the silvery metal chain of his dog tags, gesturing for him to take it. The tags slide into his bare hands, cold temperature amplified even more by the snow. Behind them there’s a soft click. “I love you too.”

Before Jaebum can open his mouth to settle his confusion a shot rings through the air, and for a second, he thinks they’ve been identified and he’s been hit. Only, when he looks up, hand already at his belt for defense, he sees their undercover operative - he didn’t even get a chance to catch the guy’s name - sway slightly with a glazed look in his eye.

It’s then that Jaebum sees the bullet wound encompassing the area of his chest, directly where his heart lies. Then, the train jostles, and the man’s body slips from the roof, descending limply into the rocky mountains below.

Searching to find where the shot came from, Jaebum pins Jinyoung with his gun poised in the air, immediately clouded by confusion at his actions. This wasn’t a part of the plan, unless Jinyoung was given a different task altogether.

“Jinyoung…?”

There’s a split second where Jinyoung just looks at him, like he’s a toy broken beyond compare. Then in the next second a second shot is ringing out, one that narrowly misses Jaebum’s head. The two spin to face the intrusion, catching sight of Commander Jung approaching hot on his two feet just before he slams himself into Jinyoung full force.

“What the fuck, Soldier?!” He screams, knocking Jinyoung onto his back, gun slipping out of his grip. Now all but defenseless, Jinyoung meets the commander’s weight as he tries to dislodge himself from the body on top of him, but is weakly overpowered when something sharp is rammed into his rib cage.

As Jinyoung cries out in pain Jaebum blinks back the shock to process the situation and moves like the wind, colliding with the commander’s back. Jaebum isn’t nearly as strong as him, so it takes every ounce of strength he has in his body to rip Commander Jung off of Jinyoung, arms slithering around his neck in a choke hold to keep him at bay.

He doesn’t put enough pressure to kill the man, just enough to hold him down as he tries to figure out what Jinyoung had planned to do. Across from where the commander writhes and claws at his arms, Jinyoung sits up with a huff, digging a knife out of his side that oozes fresh blood into the snow. The contrast would be even more beautiful if the blood wasn’t his own.

As Jinyoung catches his breath Commander Jung fights back even harder, nails digging into the skin of Jaebum’s forearms deep enough to draw blood. High on adrenaline Jaebum doesn’t feel the pain, only watching in curiosity as Jinyoung crawls on his knees to the discarded gun in obvious pain.

“Longing, rusted, furnace, daybreak,” fall from the lips of the commander, by now a bruising blue tint.

Puzzled by the random set of words leaving the man’s mouth, it isn’t until Jinyoung scrambles for the gun in panic that he realizes what they are. He gasps. _No._

“Seventeen, benign, nine, homecoming!”

“Stop!” Jaebum pleads, knowing that if those words are completed Jinyoung’s memory will be wiped clean like an etch-a-sketch. He fastens his grip around the man’s throat impossibly tighter, like he’s a boa constricting the life out of his prey.

Jinyoung plucks the gun up then, holding his mangled side as he turns back to them.

But somehow through the weight pushing down and constricting his throat, Commander Jung musters up one last good breath, croaking out roughly through his teeth, veins in his forehead threatening to burst.

“One, freight car!”

“No!”

Commander Jung falls from Jaebum’s arms as he frantically rises to meet where Jinyoung has stopped mid step, gun still in hand. Behind them, Jung bursts into a fit gasping tirelessly for oxygen, but Jaebum isn't paying attention to him.

“Jinyoung?” He tries naively, heart caught in his throat and anxiety building in his chest, praying to god the last words weren’t loud enough for Jinyoung to hear.

To his horror, Jinyoung looks up, and it’s the same image Jaebum saw their first meeting in the Red Room, when Miss Kim had used those hollow words. Jinyoung’s eyes are glossy and purged of all emotion, a new slate wiped clean.

He was gone.

Jaebum wants to cry, scream out and kill the commander for rewiring Jinyoung’s system like this, right when he had just gotten him back. Jaebum faces the man in a newfound rage, already reaching for the gun on his side when he finds Jung already standing.

“Soldier,” he croaks menacingly, peering at Jaebum. “Dispose of him and finish the mission.”

Having no time to think straight with everything’s that happening, Jaebum twists his body at the same time a cold, icy metal hand wraps their fingers around his neck. He looks into the dead eyes of Jinyoung, no, the _Winter Soldier_ , as he rips Jaebum from the train and lets his feet dangle in the air.

“Jinyoung…” he rasps helplessly,still praying to a god that won't listen that somewhere deep down, his Jinyoung is still in there and isn’t gone forever. But in the pooling depth of Jinyoung’s cryptic irises he sees nothing, and his blood runs cold.

Suddenly there’s another gunshot, followed by a lighting bolt of pain striking the core of Jaebum’s stomach that numbs his senses. He sees a flash of white behind his eyelids and cries out, deaf to the roar of the mountains above. He doesn’t know what’s just happened yet, but he registers a wetness oozing from his torso and the white hot pain engulfing his lower body. He wants to scream, cry, laugh at the realization that Jinyoung has just shot him in cold blood, but he can’t even breathe correctly, too in shock and unstable where his hands shake as he digs into the metal of Jinyoung’s prosthetic wrist.

There’s a tangy iron taste that hits the back of his throat, mouth pooling with blood as the Winter Soldier silently observes him. His eyes fall to the side of the train, and as Jaebum’s vision starts to go, he prepares himself for the fall, hoping that the gunshot wound will kill him before he’s crushed from impact.

“Jinyoung…”

Before he knows what’s happening, Jaebum finds himself being thrown through the air, back landly roughly on the train car across from the one they were tasked with stealing. He waits for the final blow, wondering what led Jinyoung to dispose of him this way instead of just ending his life swiftly over the side of the train, but it never comes.

Jinyoung’s footsteps retreat as Jaebum’s vision starts blacking out, face pressed to the cold hard snow of the train car and heart numb from the frost bite. He thinks he hears muffled talking from across the train, but he’s left alone, shattered into pieces.

He doesn't believe it at first, the idea of Jinyoung shooting him unfathomable. Just hours ago they had reconciled after months apart, Jinyoung even confessing his love. It hurts even more know replaying those words over and over in his head like an eight-track stuck on repeat. He should have squashed his fears and said them too, and now Jinyoung will live out the rest of his days with no knowledge of their shared time together, and how Jaebum had foolishly fallen hard for him.

When the last car rumbles as it detaches from the train, he can’t bring himself to look at Jinyoung killing him and flying away like it was nothing.

Jaebum waits for the inevitable, his heart already breaking along with the wound in his stomach, imagining what it would be like if he just slipped off the train and ended everything now. He can’t bring himself to do it no matter how much it hurts, and he’s not even strong enough to. There’s no telling how much blood he’s lost or what the bullet ripped through as he waits to die, but he hopes that one day Jinyoung can break through their control and live the life he was destined to.

Black spots appear behind his eyelids, and Jaebum’s made peace with himself, even if his parents will never know what happened to him.

Then suddenly above the train like a light at the end of a long dark tunnel, there’s an indistinguishable sound, like a rocket blasting off. Only it moves closer to him, and in the next instant something is gripping onto his shoulders and prying him out of the snow, leaving Jaebum to gaze up numbly at the sight of a yellow face he’s never seen before.

His vision starts to fade again, the last thing he sees being a metal arm reaching for him, its red paint chipped at the sides from the chaos it’s undoubtedly seen.


End file.
